


In Winter

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3086558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're walking at a distance, wrapped in heavy overcoats. Sirius does most of the talking. He's exuberant, keeps touching Remus' arm and playfully shoving him, as he elaborates on fanciful ideas, tells him about Auror training and the funnier things James has been saying. He cracks silly jokes and makes plans for their immediate future. </p><p>Out on a dark winter afternoon Remus and Sirius are delightfully free to enjoy each other's company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Winter

It's a dark day, gloomy and hung with heavy clouds that threaten rain. Perfect for an outing to the Heath, Sirius reckons. No-one much about, even on a Saturday? He'll happily take himself off over there for a bit if Moony doesn't feel like going out in this weather. Remus has only just got back from a mission last night and has been enjoying a long lie-in. Sirius gets restless and needs his walk.

"Haven't seen you all week," Remus says. "Course I'll come."

They apparate to the bottom of Parliament Hill, where they casually appear from a copse and proceed to climb. Walking at a distance, wrapped in heavy overcoats. Sirius does most of the talking. He's exuberant, keeps touching Remus' arm and playfully shoving him, as he elaborates on fanciful ideas, tells him about Auror training and the funnier things James has been saying. He cracks silly jokes and makes plans for their immediate future. And Remus basks in his attention, chuckles at his nonsense, enjoys their banter.

They scan other visitors to Hampstead Heath for potential reprobates. Muggles come here at night, they know, mainly looking for casual sex, cruising, some to perform strange rituals or just to howl at the moon. Neither one of them has ever done any of those things, except for the latter, but they picture what it would be like and talk as though they might have a go.

They're also furtively keeping an eye out.

"Now", Remus says just as they're out of sight again, among the trees. The black dog bursts forth, tearing through the undergrowth and out into the long grass. Speeds ahead up the muddy slope, barking with delight.

Remus laughs at the wild black creature, such a convincing dog, racing and capering about, returning every so often to playfully nip at his heels. He's always envied his friends' animagus abilities, and the dog most of all. The freedom to just let loose, at will, to shift and blend in so easily, even in broad daylight... The exact opposite of the wolf. Padfoot is happy and good-natured and in almost complete control. Sirius can never wait for his next chance to turn.  
Of course such thoughts are pointless, Remus doesn't need reminding. His joyful dog shape is the very least Sirius deserves for risking life and limb. Going through with that ridiculously treacherous spell, only to watch over a raging wolf almost every single month since. Even now, years on, Remus still gets slightly choked up thinking about it, what they've done, for him.

A gaggle of ravens takes to the air, making a throaty racket, before descending again into two gnarled old oaks. There's woodsmoke on the wind. Padfoot has run even further ahead now, frolicking with a terrier and a poodle. Their owners seem concerned, looking about, the strange black dog is humongous. When they spot Remus they keep turning to see whether it belongs to him, probably afraid the beast might be a stray.

"You're all right," he shouts. "Lively bugger, isn't he. But he's with me."

They smile, relieved.

"Heel, Snuffles."

It makes him laugh, especially when Padfoot comes running at top speed, barking and huffing, and when he reaches him almost crashes into him on purpose, sporting his dog grin. Remus pats and strokes and ruffles the thick fur, laughing again and shouting "Get off!" when Padfoot keeps trying to slobber all over his face.

Later, once they've rounded the ponds, human Sirius reappears. He saunters along, grinning, still slightly out of breath, with a glint in his eyes. And he barks out in amusement or titillation when Remus repeats his threat of collar and leash.

"Could be quite fetching," he says. "Make it a leather one, with studs. Not that I'd need it. I'm such a good dog, really."  
And he shoves into Remus again, trying to lick his ear. Remus manages to duck away. He can't help it, it's an automatic reaction. Most Muggles hate what they call queers, and he just doesn't want the attention. Of course he loves the fact Sirius is so persistent, that Sirius can't bring himself to care about absurd trivialities and will pounce on him whenever he feels like it. As though it were what it should be, the most natural thing in the world.

When they wander back into Hampstead Sirius insists on buying them a pub lunch at the King William. Halfway through their first pints they spot two old acquaintances at the bar - Quigley and Splinter, two Hufflepuffs they haven't seen since Hogwarts. Splinter looks confused, Quigley beams and waves.

Once they've been served the two of them come over.  
'What are you two doing here?' Quigley grins, they all shake hands. 'Muggle pub and all?'

Sirius smiles and shrugs. 'Fancied a pint. And they do a very decent roast.'

'We've just been to the Bell and Bush, but Greg here said this place was even more haunted.'

Splinter nods enthusiastically. 'It is, apparently. Have you seen any activity? I'm trying to get some feedback from older ghosts. You see, there's a brilliant product idea I'm developing...'

Quigley rolls his eyes. 'Don't let him get started.'

'Haven't seen any spectres yet,' Remus says. 'They might all be over at the Spaniard's Inn though.'

The others pull up chairs and join them.

Splinter looks around. 'People are big fans of leather here, aren't they?'

"How's Potter? And, um - Pettigrew?" Quigley wants to know.

"Fine. At home with their lady loves," Sirius sighs. "Apparently our wild days are over, now that we've all neatly paired up and settled down..."

"And you two, not seeing anyone?"

Sirius grins. "Oh, we _are_ -"

"Getting some time off then from the old balls-and-chains," Quigley nods approvingly.

"Not at all," Beaming now, Sirius looks at Remus, who smiles and takes a swig of beer.

Quigley seems puzzled, so Remus asks, "And you? How's things? Are you still with Beatrice?"

"Ah no, that ended ages ago. Bachelors, both of us, just at the moment."

They share some general gossip, then the food arrives. The roast is good, juicy slabs of meat, with buttery peas and crisp, chunky chips. Quigley rubs his hands and briefly bemoans his expanding waistline, Splinter gets another round of ale in.  
There's a whole raft of amusing anecdotes to get through, including a piquant story concerning Peter's girlfriend Phyllida. This is news to Remus and Sirius, they wonder whether Peter even knows.

When they discuss where they're all living these days Splinter gives them a shrewd look.

"So the rumours are true then," he smirks, gesturing at Remus and Sirius. "About you two? Being - together?"

Remus shrugs. Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Yeah," he says simply, with a smile.

"Right." Splinter laughs nervously. "I see. Right. Didn't expect it, that's all."

Quigley looks surprised, and confused, too.

"Rumours?" Remus asks.

"You know. Back at Hogwarts. That old story, more of a joke really. 'Black seeking solace with Lupin', and so on."

Sirius snorts. "Well. If anything it would have been Potter seeking solace with Evans."

"Oh."

There is a pause. Not awkward exactly, but Remus can see what they're thinking. It's the same look they're met with every time people learn they're an item. Scrutinising and wondering, evaluating, imagining. 'Ended up with him, has he. Wonder what they see in each other. And a physical relationship as well, do you think? I wonder who does what in the bedroom...'

Then it occurs to him that there might well be something else on their minds altogether. Perhaps they're trying to imagine getting off with their own best mate, each other probably. And that's an awkward thought whatever the outcome, Remus happens to know.

"Wow. Really? Well. That's a long time." Quigley says, grinning now. "Congratulations! Why did you never say?"

"Various boring reasons," Sirius shrugs. "Chiefly, my parents. How is your old man, by the way, still a big cheese at the Ministry?"

"Posted abroad now," comes the answer, and as Quigley talks about the delights of his parents' new place in Egypt they've smoothly changed the subject.

Remus gets the next round of drinks in. Waiting to be served he's got a good view of their table in the mirror above the bar. From here, at a slight distance, he suddenly has an inkling that he may have got those two all wrong. Something about Splinter's demeanour, his grin, his body language, suggests Quigley means a lot more to him than he'd like to admit. Quigley may be blissfully unaware of the fact, but Splinter hasn't randomly come to this pub - the oldest most famously gay pub in the area, affectionately known as 'the Willy' - just for the ghosts.

Of course Remus doesn't let on. But when a couple of rounds later the four of them part ways and he watches the pair move on down the road towards the Spaniard's Inn, he feels for the poor sod. After all he remembers this scenario exactly. The crushing feeling in your chest, the longing, the frustration, the embarrassment. The nightmare that is fancying the person you are so close to but could never have. Swerving between foolish hope and denial, futility and doom.

By some random fluke in his own case the nightmare turned out to have been mutual. He'd never even dared trust the mounting evidence, until in the end Sirius made it impossible to ignore. That headrush of a kiss, out of the blue, snogging in a dark Hogwarts corridor late one night... Which changed everything, and in terms of their friendship strangely also changed nothing.  
Somehow he doesn't think Splinter will be so lucky.

Sirius is in high spirits and briefly disappears into a bakery while Remus waits outside, smoking a cigarette. Rays of low winter sun peek out between heavy clouds. Through the shop window hung with gingerbread he can see Sirius laughing with the shopkeeper. He is comfortable dealing with Muggles now. And the shopkeeper looks enchanted, beaming at the handsome young customer.

When Sirius resurfaces with his small parcel he plucks the cigarette from Remus' lips to steal the last drags. He asks about Muggle terminology as they walk homeward. It's getting dark already, they're idly wondering what became of various other Hufflepuffs when the icy drizzle sets in. Sirius stops them in a doorway in a deserted street, leans in for a kiss. And with his arm still around Remus they apparate home.

 

Back at the freezing flat Remus collapses onto the sofa and comfortably stretches his limbs. Outside it is really coming down now, and he closes his eyes just for a moment, listening to the rain. Then he draws his wand and lights a fire in the grate, summons some music. Sirius is busy elsewhere, first in their small bedroom, then the tiny kitchen.

When he walks in he's changed out of his muddy jeans into soft black trousers, one of the luxurious remnants of his noble past. And he's carrying a teapot and mugs and a small bottle of rum on a tray which he sets down on the low table. Next to the tea things is the parcel from the bakery open on a plate: a Christmas cake, hewn into thick slices. Masses of plump black fruit crammed into a spiced, dark crumb. Laced with cognac, covered in fat layers of almond paste and white icing.

"What's all this?" Remus grins.

"Just what we need," Sirius says ceremoniously.

He sits on the floor, in what is a favourite spot with his dog self, too. It's padded by the thick exotic rug he dragged home from a shop on Holloway Road a while ago. There's mysterious imagery knotted into it, strange beasts and flames and flying creatures.

"Here, try some of this."

Sirius hands Remus a crumbly piece of cake, takes some for himself and licks his sticky fingers.  
He pours the tea, then, remembering, reaches for a small tin of rock sugar on a nearby shelf.

Remus watches him assemble the drinks: steaming, amber tea, a dark glassy lump of sugar, a glug of rum. He grasps the proffered mug, inhaling the fragrant steam. 

Neither of the two young men is particularly domesticated, so moments like this tend to feel like special occasions.

"This tea is excellent," Remus says.

"Yeah," Sirius seems thoughtful. "It's how my mother takes it." His tone is even, without any of the bile usually reserved for mentions of his own family.

"Got your drinking problem from her then," Remus says lightly.

Sirius smirks. "And what's your excuse?"

As they drink their tea, Remus watches him, curious. Sirius hates his family, despises his parents. He's spent years fighting them off, denying their influence, resisting their plans for him. He's been disinherited, has had his face blasted off their official tapestry, he has shacked up with probably the last person they'd choose for him, and has finally managed to break free. So it's odd for him now to be serving his mother's favourite tea.

Then again, it is luxuriant and delicious. And Sirius has always had a penchant for the finer things in life. While Remus is practical, economical, the one to tweak and repair and improve, Sirius brings home obscure spirits, extravagant foodstuffs. Interesting new strains of resin to smoke, beautiful wines, expensive spices, the richest and deepest foreign chocolate. Aromatic bits of fruitwood to throw into the fire.

He does it for the simple pleasure of it, without ostentation or pretense - in fact he's never been known to flaunt his wealth or supposed sophistication. Which must be his upbringing, Remus reckons, any heir to the House of Black would have been taught to take their natural superiority as a given. Making a show of it would be deemed not only vulgar, but simply unnecessary.

And for a fleeting moment the refined, entitled Sirius Black comes into sharp focus. The elegant aristocrat, rather than the wild unruly Gryffindor. The son of admittedly despicable parents, who nevertheless are the only parents he has.

Sirius is looking at him quizzically, and with a small grin reaches out to feed Remus another small piece of cake. Remus holds on to his hand, licks the fingers. Then he pulls him in. They snog a little, Sirius on his knees facing the sofa, his hand slowly travelling down Remus' chest, past his abdomen, caressing his hip and along his thigh.

"This tastes even better." Sirius says softly.

"Oi, dog breath," comes a voice from his trousers. "Padfoot! Over here, you ponce!"

Remus reaches round to Sirius' back pocket and retrieves the little notebook, which keeps squawking insults. It's about palm sized, a nondescript thing, and one of a pair James acquired ages ago. They're enchanted to transmit messages, and their alerts get increasingly ruder in tone the longer messages remain unread.

Remus flips open the cover and scans the top page, containing the most recent interactions, all of them scrawled in James' impatient hand.

"What's he want," Sirius mumbles against his neck, working open the first of Remus' shirt buttons.

Remus frowns a little. "Prongs seems desperate to meet up." He clears his throat and reads out James' words.  
" _So we'll meet you at the Leaky. What time?' -'Come on, don't take all day' - 'Hello!? What are you doing' - 'Actually, don't answer that. But seriously, how much longer'_..."

Sirius straightens up and grins. His hand has made its way beneath Remus' shirt and is caressing his stomach.

Remus quotes James' last missive, "And: _'Merlin's beard. Aren't you two great poofs quite done yet?'_ " This makes Sirius laugh, but Remus cocks an eyebrow. "I thought they couldn't meet up today - didn't you say he and Lily were otherwise engaged?"

"Well, I - sort of told them to be," Sirius says and presses a kiss just above Remus' belly button, and another just above his waistband. "Just wanted you to myself for a bit."

"Ah." With a smile Remus tangles his fingers in Sirius' wild black hair and pulls his face closer for a slow snog.

"Right," he says then and retrieves the little pencil tucked into the binding of the notebook. _"Hello Prongs,"_ he reads out as he scribbles a reply. _"We are going to need a bit longer. See you at the pub in_ \- what, three hours?"

"Perfect." Sirius nods, grinning broadly. He is already nonchalantly undoing Remus' belt buckle.

 _"Until then, please stop bothering us. We are busy."_ Remus underlines the last word for emphasis and signs off, _"Cheers, P & M."_

Then he drops the notebook to the floor, ready to focus his attention on urgent matters at hand.


End file.
